Skin & Bones
by jaderat
Summary: Trigger warning! Sasuke, Naruto, eating disorders  anorexia/bulimia . Oneshot, possible sequel. Depressing.


**Author Note:** **Trigger Warning!**_Not a very happy story. It's really depressing. It is about eating disorders (ED), namely anorexia and bulimia. I am not an anoretic* or bulimic, although I do have anorexic symptoms (which I am working on lest I develop anorexia) but writing is a good way to expel unwanted feelings. I tried to write this in a more informative way than... well, the way where you get a high reading dark, depressing problems. I wrote this after reading 'Wasted A Memoir of Anorexia and Bulimia_' _by Marya Hornbacher. Soundtrack: "Waltz Moore" - From First To Last and "Courage" - Superchick. I am really sorry if you have or are recovering from an eating disorder and this offends you or is poorly written. I welcome feedback._

_It is in Sasuke's perspective, or at least that's how I imagined it while writing. I might write another piece in the mind of Naruto. Just over 500 words._

*'Throughout this book, I make a distinction between the words _anoretic_ and _anorexic_. Though in common parlance the word _anorexic_ is often used to describe a person ("she's an anorexic"), the technically correct usage of _anorexic_ is an adjective-i.e., it describes a type of behavior ("she's anorexic," meaning she displays some of the symptoms of anorexia), whereas _anoretic_ is a noun, the medical term for a person diagnosed with anorexia ("she's anoretic" or "an anoretic").' - Wasted - Marya Hornbacher

He coughed up blood one day. He looked horrified when he saw the red on his hand. He tried to hide it from me. He didn't want me to see it because it was evidence. After that day I started seeing all the signs: the calloused patch on his fingers, the bloodshot eyes, the smell of mouthwash, the not-so-random trips to the bathroom, eating at weird hours, missing food, missing money. He was also weak, always shaking. His weight was dropping and he was becoming skinnier, his limbs becoming a little too thin.

I asked him to eat, right there in front of me. He said, detached, that he wasn't hungry, that he had eaten before he came. I told him to do it anyway. He said no. He was angry. I was angry. The next day he was running, running, running, running around the field. When he came in he couldn't breathe and was almost falling over. I said you look good. He scoffed. I made him stand in the mirror, and told him again how good he looked. I heard him crying quietly later that night. The next morning blood was splattered in the toilet bowl. He said it was normal. I told him he wasn't a girl, he didn't _bleed_ normally.

An old scar on his arm suddenly turned into a scab on a painfully thin arm. A blood vessel burst in his eye one day. His golden hair didn't shine as much. There wasn't as much as there used to be either. The only food he bought was no fat, low calorie. He binged on fatty, salty food. Worst of all his eyes didn't focus; he didn't look at me, at anything anymore. He had bruises from a handshake, from a tap on the back.

I was scared to touch him or to look at him but I knew I couldn't let go or look away because he would die a little more if I did. I held his tired, cold frame from behind trying to keep him warm and protect his fragile body from falling apart. I cried when my hovering, soft touches left deep purple bruises and begged him to eat.

I heard him exercising while I tried to sleep and watched him try to fit in tiny exercises while sitting or doing chores. I watched and saw him crumble into pieces on the floor, or turn to dust and blow away. Our water bills were so high from all the running water while he made his throat raw in the shower. He took heaving breaths or tiny, short ones. His body would fall when he was simply too exhausted and malnourished and even though it was tiny, his weight was too much for his weak, knocking knees.

He was killing himself. He was murdering his body along with his mind. His personality had disappeared. All of his bones were jutting out of his skin, stretching it across them.

On the floor, blood seeping from his mouth onto the floor, across his face, into his hair, I was sure he was dead. He looked like a corpse.

"Naruto Uzumaki. He's on the floor, he's bleeding! You have to help. He hasn't been eating. Please!"


End file.
